Broken Angels
by charon19
Summary: i'm thinking of not finishing this, so if you like it PLEASE R+R + i will, this is set 11 yrs after tmr, rick is having trouble dealing w/ evie's...spoiler...and when he is confronted with the secrets of her... he learns he must fight w/evil to save her.
1. Prologe:...A Great Fall...

Author's notes: let me know what you think by reviewing (once again that number is REVIEW!!!!!!) also here is a speech key, or whatever it's called:  
"..."---normal, everyday.  
~~~~~~"..."---memories/flashbacks from either movie, have no sentences other then the actual quotes cause you most likely know the scenes already. In italics.  
~~~~~~ ------means a flashback/memory that is soley my creation, is written just like the reg. story. In italics.   
'...'---thoughts.  
Also ****** in the center of the page is a scene cut. In flashbacks it does not effect the reg. present time scene.  
Got it? Enjoy!  
  
Broken Angels  
by  
charon19  
  
Prologue: A Great Fall:  
  
Egypt:1934  
  
His heart was beating so fast, he was sure it could be heard miles away. Sweat rolled down his face and his muscles burned as he ran to his love. He barely caught her before she fell to the sand strewn ground below. He remembered everything. The look of utter shock on her face, the last remnants of a spark in her eyes. Her last breath, so cruel in its truth. The feel of her limp body against his grunge stained shirt. That shirt that to this day still holds her crimson blood, barely a memory to anyone else. She was so frigid in his arms, so indifferent to the desert heat around them.   
  
The burning hatred that drove him to becoming a killer came next. That indescribable passion that still existed as his only means for survival, her memory all that made him make others remember aswell. He could still see the river of blood that rushed down his arm, from the pure torture that came before the death of those that destroyed his happiness. He didn't care then, nor did he later, that Alex had witnessed these acts. He didn't care about "moving on" how could he?   
  
He remembered the years that followed. Everything was a blur save her, and their, memories. There were so many. He never stopped crying for her, knowing she would never again see the light of day. For the world, knowing that her face would never be seen by anyone else. For Alex, who would grow never having a mother to teach him so many things. For himself, knowing that now there was no one truly responsible for those acts still left alive.   
  
Dreams can haunt forever with the flight and fall of broken angels.  
  
******  
  
London: 1945  
  
He sat there, just staring out the window. The rain was falling outside again, and the house was sad and dreary around him. Life had left the inhabitants of this place; phantoms of the past that could as well be dreams were all that was left. Everywhere he turned, shadows of memories loomed.  
  
~~~~~~  
"I hate it when you do that."  
"Why?"   
"It makes me feel like agreeing to anything"  
"Anything?"  
"Those...are not my knickers..."  
******  
"You're here, bad guys are here, Evie's been kidnapped. Let me guess..."  
~~~~~~  
  
"Evie..." his voice was small and barely above a whisper. He could feel the salt tears prick at eyes so used to crying that they didn't even fall anymore. Eleven years had passed without her. Eleven years his soul sat like this, still and barely moving. Killing with a passion, but living only like a drone.   
  
Alex was now nineteen. He lived in a flat nearby and was off on his first solo dig in Egypt at the moment. He was following his mother's footsteps knowing his father no longer had the heart. Alex usually visited every week to make sure that the bodies found did not contain his father. Jonathan was now dead. He was never the same after Evie's death, none of them were. Their own lives had become quiet and inconsequential after. He was ashamed to say he didn't remember how Jonathan died, Alex would know. He just didn't come home one day and then the news reported his death. That was that. Nothing was the same after that day. He had failed her in that way, it shouldn't be like this, but it was.  
  
"I'm sorry Evie. I tried to stay strong...I tried" but there was no one there to hear the words...no one but him in the darkness. The darkness that held no light, that surged softly backwards into nothing without so much as a second thought.  
  
To be continued...  
  
ps- did you catch the line from "The Listener"? My fav. I had to use it somewhere. 


	2. Chapter 1:...All the kings horses...Sub ...

Author's notes: let me know what you think by reviewing (once again that number is REVIEW!!!!!!) also here is a speech key, or whatever it's called:  
"..."---normal, everyday.  
~~~~~~"..."---memories/flashbacks from either movie, have no sentences other then the actual quotes cause you most likely know the scenes already. In italics.  
~~~~~~ ------Means a flashback/memory that is solely my creation is written just like the reg. story. In italics.   
'...'---thoughts.  
Also ****** in the center of the page is a scene cut. In flashbacks it does not effect the reg. present time scene.  
Got it? Enjoy!  
  
Broken Angels  
by  
charon19  
  
Chapter 1: All The Kings Horses:  
Subchapter 1: The Visitors:  
  
"Is this the place?" a heavy voice spoke the words from inside a lavish automobile parked outside the rundown, castle sized mansion.   
  
"It looks...deserted." Indeed it did, windows lay shattered here and there, the grass was long-obviously unmowed for a very long time-, and every light was blackened. Except for one. In that window-the room of which seemed to be some sort of library, although a neglected one-a man could be seen by these visitors such.   
  
His form was hunched over in desperation, his eyes mirroring the gloom around him with an empty glaze, devoid of any apparent emotion or life. Hair that reached to his shoulders was stringy and oil ridden with a lack of wash. His face though was the saddest sight of all to behold. This man, who was by knowledge only in his mid-forties, looked to be closer to a hundred. Lines of worry and hardship ran so deep and so long that it appeared to be truth instead of falsification. He did not descry to the outside world, by sight you could tell he was somewhere else.  
  
The two watchers held very different reactions to this apparition before them. The old man, twice the senior of the man in the window, was not bothered in the least by this show of self -neglect. Almost as if he had seen it too many times to truly care. Like a veteran slave in captivity, he had learned to deal with the ugly visions of death and despair that this scene showed. However, in a complete display of contrast, the young man sat there in shock and disbelief at what this all implied.  
  
"This is our unstoppable hero?" his emotions were clearly evinced in his voice. His companion nodded and answered in a soft yet strong tone that betrayed a hint of an Egyptian accent.   
  
"Yes. I am absolutely certain." He held up his hand to stop the youth from interrupting; as he knew would have occurred if it hadn't been raised.   
  
"I know he doesn't look like much, but I assure you this is our hero. He is a defender of god, and even in his debilitated state he is stronger then most; perhaps even more so this way. For because of it he is a feral fighter, he doesn't care if he doesn't wake up tomorrow-he'd even prefer that-he fights with passion and pain. He fights the winds because he's looking for someone to take the agony, the grief away from him. He thinks with his battered heart because he believes he has lost everything..." the old man's pause showed an almost evil glint playing across his ebony-like eyes as his voice took a sinister tone, he continued.  
  
"...When he really has far more to forfeit, then he even knows he has anymore." his young comrade did not appear to be the least bit absolved. Even so he followed the old man's actions of exiting their rather expensive vehicle, shaking his head in confusion all the while. When they reached the mansion's door the old man stopped and signaled him to make their presence known to the dilution ridden mind of this "warrior".  
  
******  
  
The knock sounded, cold and dead like a drum, upon the hard oak door. The intonation vibrated throughout the entire house, and it seemed almost as though the walls were shaking. The discord filled his ears as it always had, but now it held a wholly unwelcome resonance to it. Rick held no desire whatsoever to be bothered, nor any will to pull himself from his memories, only to discover what feeble creature stood at the other end. Alex was the only one left alive that was ever welcomed into this place, and he would never knock. He knew his father was always, no matter what, in the same spot. He only spoke now if his memories did not lay quite so heavy on his heart or if he had some corpse to announce. There were years when he was better then this, when he cared. When he wasn't so far gone, but those few were soon ended and long ago.  
  
"Mr. O'Connell?" The voice was lost to Rick. It may as well have never been spoken. He was so entrapped in his own mind that he didn't notice the actions that filled the house next. The turning of the doorknob, the creak as the extensively carved slab of wood opened to let the intruders inside, or even the shadow that flew to stand infront of him.  
  
Rick barely even felt the slight tap on his shoulder, but he did feel it, it took a second for him to grasp that this was an intruder infront of him. Nevertheless, the second it hit him the feral and vicious nature-that the world had seen for over a decade now-came instantly to the surface. With a brutal growl- animal and wild in it's intentions-he attacked the trespasser of this hollow palace. Throwing himself on top of what must have been a man no older then twenty-five, he brought them both to the ground. Forthwith removing a small silver dagger from his boot, he held it fast to the man's neck before he could even blink an eye. The movements he dealt were as always quick, severe, and brutal.  
  
"You have exactly two seconds to tell me what the hell you are doing in my house before I cut your head off, and feed it to the dogs." Rick's voice was gravely and harsh, with the almost complete loss of the need to speak, as it reached his victim's ears. The young man looked flustered. As the intent glare of steel leaded eyes bore into him completely, he could scarcely breath.   
  
"I'm here to ask you for a favor." He spoke these words hastily, as there was no doubt an integral and utter truth to every word of Rick's threat. He knew in those words truth was held.  
  
"I don't do favors." The connotations captivated in that statement were razor sharp. He had even shifted closer in order to make the inflections of complete destruction-in which came with one foul step-set in his voice. That knowledge clearly grasped by the youth, he continued in much the same way.  
  
"So...you'll have to do better than that." The man was clearly disconcerted by Rick's difficulty in corporation. He had not expected, when he accepted this mission, such an abhorrent amount trouble with any amount of persuasion.   
  
"It's hard to explain when you're being held down by a madman with a knife to your throat. Please, just let me up and listen to what I have to ask of you, deny if you want to even. Just let me up, I mean you know harm."  
  
'So, he's a stubborn little hound.' That was completely fine with Rick, he would enjoy proving him wrong.   
  
"I'm not worried about what harm you could or..." he looked him over with a scrutinizing gaze to prove the point of his next statement.  
  
"Couldn't cause me..." the rich Egyptian voice prevented him from continuing.   
  
"Rick, I know you never liked intruders, but this is just a little much. Don't you agree?" both the men brawling on the floor beneath looked up at their elder. They seemed rather shocked, whether due to the rather amiable nature in which he had spoken to Rick, or otherwise wasn't apparent. He continued.  
  
"Now, if you will kindly let Ellias go, I will explain everything." Rick's grip loosened on cue, and Ellias took the chance to stand as fast as humanly possible. Walking across the room to stand next to his evident companion. Able to observe him clearly for the first time he could tell that he was indeed no older than his mid-twenties. He had bleach white blonde hair, brown eyes, and a pale skin rarely found in Egypt. Of course it was very much possible that he lived in London, but he definitely looked American.   
  
Rick began to study the other man from his odd position of a sort of half crouch upon the floor, when the lines upon the face before him struck a cord. He knew this man. With the abrupt awareness of who this man was, his muscles tensed even more and his entire demeanor hardened completely. His voice seethed with hatred at his next word, simple and telling the tale of loathing in one simple set of sounds.  
  
"Nakhti." The man, Nakhti, nodded his concord as a grim and cruel sneer began to spread its way athwart his face. In that very instant Rick rose to stand, placing his body in a menacing combative stance.  
  
"It's nice to know I'm remembered. Were is Evie? I wanted to say hello." His sneer grew wider; he knew full well that Evie was...was gone, he was just playing a game. As Rick's rage mounted, he couldn't help but remember their first meeting of Nakhti and his men.   
  
To be continued... 


End file.
